


Taking the Road to the West

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Lewis (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Road Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade agrees to go with John Watson to deliver something for Sherlock Holmes, the only initial instruction being to head towards Wales on the M4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking the Road to the West

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pandabob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandabob/gifts).



> Pandabob wanted a road trip. It turned out to be rather a winding road.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” John Watson asked.

“No, of course not,” Greg Lestrade replied.  “I told you I had three days off.  I’ve got nothing pressing to do and a trip west will be the perfect excuse to put off the D.I.Y. I ought to do until another day.”

“I appreciate it.  Can I buy you another pint?”

“Thank you, but no.  If we’re going to leave early tomorrow then there are certain things I do need to get done.”

“Fair enough.  It would probably be worth packing an overnight bag as well.”

“I thought it was just a quick drive down the M4 and back.”

“This is a delivery we are making for Sherlock Holmes; nothing is ever as simple as it seems.”

“Should I be bringing food as well then?”

“No, Mrs Hudson knows that I’m delivering the boxes – after all they appeared in her sitting room, with instructions as to what was to happen to them – so she will no doubt make sandwiches which will be enough for both of us.”

“Right.  I’d best be off.  I’ll see you tomorrow morning at 9.30”

Greg left the pub feeling cheerful.  He was surprised by how much he was looking forward to spending the following day with John Watson.

#####

When Greg knocked on the door at Baker Street the next morning, John answered it promptly.

“I’m sorry there’s been a slight change of plan,” John said as he let Greg in.

“Oh!” Greg hoped his disappointment didn’t show.

“We have to pick up an additional package at Membury Services.”

“Where exactly are we going?”

“That, apparently, we will find out when we collect it.  As I told you yesterday, all Sherlock wanted was for us to head towards Wales on the M4.  I think it would be a good idea if we got going.  We need to pick up the boxes from Mrs Hudson and then we should be off.”

Greg followed John into Mrs Hudson’s flat.  Waiting for them by the door were two cardboard boxes, plus a highly ornamental umbrella stand.

John looked apologetic.  “Yes, that has to come, too.”

At that moment, Mrs Hudson appeared carrying a picnic hamper.  “I found this at the back of a cupboard and it seemed such a shame to waste it.  I’ve packed you a few sandwiches, some cake and one or two other things to keep you going.”

“That’s very kind of you,” John said.  “I’m sure we’ll enjoy it.”  With that he picked up one of the boxes and the picnic basket and headed downstairs, leaving Greg to stagger after him with the other box and the umbrella stand.

There were the usual delays in leaving London, but once they had passed Slough, the traffic eased.  Greg and John chatted easily.  John mentioned he’d been thinking of seeing the latest Bond film when it came out and Greg casually said that he’d been thinking the same.  He felt ridiculously happy when John suggested they go together.

They continued in the same fashion until they saw the flashing sign on the overhead gantry.  Greg swore.  “We’re going to have problems now.  You’d better see if you can get hold of Sherlock and let him know what’s happened.”

John tried but his call went straight to answerphone.  “The motorway’s shut at Junction 14 so we’ve got to come off.  We can’t get to the services; what do you want us to do?”

The reply came whilst they were queuing to leave the motorway.  <Go to Oxford>.  John read the three word text out loud.

“And what do we do when we get there?” Greg grumbled.

“Hopefully by the time we get there he’ll have sent us some more instructions.”

Finally, they left the motorway and started to head north.  Greg debated how to restart their conversation, but couldn’t think of a suitable topic. 

He was still trying to find something to say when John suddenly blurted out “I know this isn’t the best of journeys, but it is rather nice having the chance to spend a longer time with you.  Normally all we end up doing is having a quick pint together and talk about work.  I’ve enjoyed being able to have a conversation that isn’t dominated by Sherlock Holmes.”

Greg laughed.  “Not so fast!  He’ll be making his presence felt soon enough.  But I know what you mean.  And yes, I’ve enjoyed it, too.”

It wasn’t long before John’s phoned pinged again.  <Raleigh Park> he read out.  He searched for details. “We follow this road into Oxford and then it should be somewhere on the left.”

They found the park easily enough and Greg parked the car.  “So what do we do now?” he asked.

“Wait for further instructions.  And in the meantime I suggest we have an early lunch.”

John reached round to get the picnic basket from the back seat.  He lifted the lid.  “This should keep us going for a while,” he said.

They helped themselves to sandwiches and crisps and Greg poured them both a cup of coffee from the flask he’d brought.  Greg was eating an apple when someone tapped on the window.  He opened the car door.

“Are you DI Lestrade?” a tall, fair-haired man asked.

“Yes, that’s me.” 

“I’m DS Hathaway.  My Chief Super said I was to come with you.”

“Right.  Hop in, then.”

Hathaway opened the rear door and got in.

“So, where are we going to?” Greg asked.

“I don’t know, sir.  I thought you would.”

John sighed.  “I’ll phone the mad bastard again.  And in the meantime, help yourself to a sandwich.”

Hathaway seemed reluctant to take up the offer, so Greg added, “They’re quite safe.  Make the most of it while you can; it could be some time before you get another chance.”

“Thank you, sir.”  He took a couple of sandwiches.

Meanwhile, John was ringing Sherlock, at which point there was the ping of an incoming message.   <Don’t bother phoning. Gloucester>

“What’s the best way to get to Gloucester from here?” he asked Hathaway.

Hathaway gave directions and then yawned.  “Sorry, sir; I haven’t had much sleep.”

Greg laughed.  “That’s okay, lad.  If you shift the picnic basket you can lie down on the seat.  We’ll wake you when we get wherever we’re supposed to be.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Why should we?   We’ve both known times when we’ve grabbed sleep whenever we could.”

Five minutes later, John glanced round at their passenger.  “He’s fast asleep.”

Greg grunted.  They were stopped at traffic lights and he reached over and took John’s hand.  John squeezed his fingers in return.  They both started to speak at once.

“I’m glad you...”

“There are some ...”

They laughed and dropped hands as the lights changed.

The next few minutes were taken up with John giving directions and Greg avoiding cars that changed lanes at the last minute.  Once they were out of the city, they resumed their conversation from earlier.  Their tone had subtly changed, although the words remained the same.  Both men were conscious of their sleeping passenger and neither was inclined to express their feelings vocally, but the knowledge that mutual feelings connected them further added warmth to the conversation.

After a while John received yet another text <Park in Montpellier Sq, Cheltenham. J meet me at the Town Hall>

“Good job your phone has Google maps,” Greg said when John read the latest change of direction.

They were negotiating the Cheltenham one-way system when Hathaway woke up.  John explained about the change of plan, which the other man accepted, saying that all he’d been told was to go with DI Lestrade.

They parked where they’d been told and John set off to meet Sherlock.  Hathaway politely asked Greg if he would mind if he got out and had a cigarette.

“Not at all.  I’d join you if I wasn’t supposed to have given up.  You stay here and have a smoke while I go for a walk up the road to stretch my legs.”

Greg set off at a brisk pace, glad to be out of the car for a few minutes.  Then he heard a shout and looking round, saw someone pushing Hathaway out of the way.  He turned and ran back, intent on stopping whoever was trying to steal the car.  He was unaware that a third man was in the background until he received a heavy blow on the back of the head.

He was only unconscious for a matter of seconds and came round to the sound of running feet and Sherlock’s voice, “Isn’t that typical?  Lestrade, can’t you do anything right?”

“Shut up, Sherlock!”  John interrupted.  “Greg, are you okay?”  He could feel John’s hand checking the back of his head, which was surprisingly pleasant.  He muttered something to indicate that he was all right and John seemed reassured.

Then he heard a third voice. “Hathaway, lad.  Speak to me.  What’s happened?”

“He had a knife.  I don’t think it’s too bad.”

“Can we get on now?”  Sherlock was clearly impatient.

“Sherlock, I told you to shut up.  It’s your fault this happened, so I suggest you find us a taxi whilst I sort your mess out,” John said.  “Greg, can you lean on this gatepost? I need to take a look at Hathaway’s arm.”

John inspected the limb and then bandaged it up.  The younger man was very pale, but clearly grateful to being held up whilst John administered first aid.

“It will need stitches,” John said.

“I’ll make sure he gets to A&E.” Turning to Greg, he added “You must be DI Lestrade.  I’m DI Lewis, Hathaway’s boss.”

Greg nodded “Nice to meet you.”

At that moment, Sherlock returned. “I found a taxi that will take us to Gloucester.  All may not be lost after all.”

Once they were all in the vehicle, John explained Sherlock’s plan; an attempt to steal the boxes from the car boot would be made, but that it would be foiled by Lestrade and Hathaway.  He also explained to Sherlock that it would have been much more effective if he had forewarned the latter two of his plan.

“So currently they have both boxes,” complained Sherlock.

“And the umbrella stand,” added John.  Sherlock glared at him.

“And Mrs Hudson’s picnic basket,” Greg said.

“I hardly think that is of any consequence,” Sherlock remarked.

“Mrs Hudson may not agree,” Greg replied.  Sherlock scowled.

“So what is the plan now?” DI Lewis asked.

Sherlock was saved from answering by the ringing of his phone.  “What do you want?” was followed rapidly by “No!” and shortly afterwards, Sherlock furiously finished the call. 

“Take us straight to the cathedral,” he said to the taxi driver.  “You can drop us in the Close.”

“Can’t drive in there, mate.”

“I think you’ll find you can,” Sherlock instructed.

The rest of the journey was made in silence, with Sherlock scowling at anyone who so much as moved.

They arrived at the cathedral and, much to the taxi driver’s surprise, parked in the Close.  As they got out of the taxi, they realised that Mycroft was already there. Standing next to him was a lady in her early seventies.

“Sherlock, I am severely disappointed in you,” the lady began.

“But, Mummy, it wasn’t ...”

“Be quiet. I don’t want to hear your excuses.  It is not acceptable.”

Sherlock looked like a small boy about to be sent to his bedroom for breaking something he had been told not to touch.  Mycroft, meanwhile, was wearing the expression of a sibling who is happy not to be the one in trouble.  It wasn’t to last.

“And Mycroft, I do not understand how you could possibly trust your brother in this matter.  You have made a serious error of judgement.”

Mycroft looked down at the cobbles as though wishing they might swallow him up.  Mrs Holmes looked across at the four grown men who were all trying to hide behind one another.

“Stand still!” she ordered.

They all froze, apart from Hathaway, who began to polish one of his shoes on the back of the other leg.  Greg and Lewis, who were standing on either side of Hathaway, nudged him, whilst Mrs Holmes glared at them all. 

Once Hathaway was properly self-conscious, Mrs Holmes began, “The bishop has very kindly let me have the use of his house.  I suggest you gentlemen make your way over there, where I have arranged for medical assistance to be provided.  Once I have spoken to my sons, we shall come over and join you.”

They needed no further bidding to head off as instructed.

Ten minutes later, Hathaway’s arm had been stitched, bandaged and put in a sling and Greg had been checked over, declared stable and told to get medical assistance if he started feeling dizzy or sick.  Mrs Holmes entered the room, followed by her two sons.  John thought she looked like a swan, serenely floating along a river, followed by her two half-grown cygnets.

Sherlock was still protesting.  “I really don’t see what the problem is; you never liked the thing anyway.”

“That is irrelevant,” Mrs Holmes’ tone was one of ‘Mother knows best and you’d better not argue with her’.  “I wish to give it to your Uncle Sigmund and therefore I intend to get it back.  And since you two have both failed to have it delivered to me, I shall have to make the arrangements myself.”

She looked across the room “Doctor Watson, could you come with me, please.”

She turned and left, clearly expecting John to follow without question.  He did.  Five minutes later, he was back.

Greg looked him over.  “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.  She gave me some phone numbers to ring, together with the messages I was to deliver, when someone answered.  Can’t say I’m any the wiser, though.  I do feel bad that you’ve had your car stolen.”

“Yes.  I’m hoping the insurance will pay up and that they don’t decide to cause problems because of whatever was in the car.”

“I don’t think you should worry about that, Detective Inspector,” Mycroft interrupted.  “I believe the money for a new car should reach you very soon.”

“It’s easy for you to say that,” Sherlock complained.  “Mummy has insisted that I take Mrs Hudson to buy her a new picnic basket.  You don’t have to leave your office.”

“Can’t you just order her one off the internet?” asked John.  “Surely your mother would never know.”

“She would!” the Holmes brothers were apparently unanimous in their belief.

Mrs Holmes re-appeared in the room.  “Inspector Lewis.”

Lewis practically stood at attention.

“Would you accompany me, please.”

Lewis left in much the same manner that John had when he had been summonsed.

“Inspector, please give me your arm, so I can lean on you.”

Lewis didn’t think that Mrs Holmes needed to lean on anyone, but nevertheless did so.  He watched as two cars drove into the Close.  The driver of one got out and approached Mrs Holmes.

“I understand we have something that you want, missus,” the driver said.  He walked round to open the car boot, his whole attitude stating that an old lady leaning on the arm of grey-haired man wasn’t going to give them any trouble.

Mrs Holmes looked in the boot.  “Do you think your friend could help get them out for me, whilst I find the money?”

She fumbled with her handbag and the second driver went to help his mate unload the boot.  Just as he leant over to lift one of the boxes out, two well-built men emerged from the shadows and in a movement that would have bought credit to a synchronised swimming team, had handcuffed the two drivers.

“Thank you, Williams,” Mrs Holmes said.  “I presume I can leave these two with you now.”

With that, she straightened up and strode back into the bishop’s house, Lewis following behind and looking rather bemused.

“Right,” she said as soon as she entered the room where the others had remained.  “I have retrieved all the property and will ensure that the boxes reach the correct recipient.  I am now going to present Sigmund with the umbrella stand; his expression when he receives it will be worth the effort I have spent in recovering it.  And Sherlock, before you think of saying anything, you will still be taking Mrs Hudson out to buy her a new picnic basket.”

Sherlock started to sigh, but was quelled by a glance from his mother.

“Now, gentlemen, it is getting late, so I suggest you stay for the night.  My boys will be happy to let you use their rooms.  I am aware that they have double beds, but I am sure that will not cause any of you discomfort.”

With that, she swept out of the room, instructing Mycroft to follow so that he could carry the umbrella stand.

Lewis turned to Hathaway and said with a grin, “It seems a shame to waste a double bed.”

Sherlock looked at John and Greg, clearly expecting them to object strenuously to the idea, only to find Greg saying “Why not?” and John replying “Indeed.”  He muttered “boring” as loudly as he dared and stomped off after his mother and brother.


End file.
